


Happy Not-So-Happy Birthday

by That_Adorable_Fox



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Death, Kid!Thomas, Multi, assassin!Remus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 10:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Adorable_Fox/pseuds/That_Adorable_Fox
Summary: Over thirty assassins had been slaughtered trying to kill el Rey Rojo. The Red King. But now, this case was Remus’s. He could either walk home with one million dollars or not walk home at all.It was a win-win.
Relationships: Background Royality, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	Happy Not-So-Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Im bored so here's more angst!!

The Duke kept checking his wrist watch. He knew very well that it wasn't a wrist watch at all, but instead a camera and hidden information about his next target. The Duke had climbed up the ladder of assassins for years, and finally he was at the top.

How did he know he was at the top? He was assigned to a case that most, if not all, people would consider a suicide mission. Over thirty assassins had been killed trying to slaughter  _ el Rey Rojo _ . The Red King. But now, this case was Remus’s. He could either walk home with one million dollars or not walk home at all.

It was a win-win.

He surveyed the rooftop where he was supposed to find his opponent. It wasn't very large, luckily the Duke wasn't the claustrophobic type. There were barely any obstacles in the way, and the only way up it was a rusty fire escape ladder. Fun.

There was a thud behind him as the Red King flung himself up the ladder.

“I'm afraid we haven’t met before.”  _ Why was his voice hauntingly familiar? _

“I'm the Duke.” Duke turned around and bowed. “I know who you are.”

“Of course you do, who doesn't?” King scoffed. “Now let's get this over with. I have an event after this.”

“As do I. I'll make your death fast.” He drew his mace.

“Not if I make yours faster.” King’s sword came out. Duke smirked. He could do this.

King striked first, expecting to graze Duke’s arm. Duke was faster and swung his mace against the King’s back. It knocked the breath out of him, but he recovered by slicing Duke’s jaw. He growled and jumped back after King swiped another attack. 

Move after move, parry after parry. The Duke noticed a slight limp in the King’s walk and traced it to his left ankle. He smirked, then ducked as his head almost was taken off.

_ Perfect. _

He backed up towards the edge, blocking the King’s attacks. 

“This will be a dreadful end for you.” King chuckled. He raised his sword and started to come down on Duke when the latter ducked and rolled between the King’s legs. His mace fell down towards the ground and thudded as it finally hit the bottom. The Red King faltered in surprise. The Duke knocked the King with a knife and kicked his good ankle to the edge, causing him to put all weight on his weak foot. A satisfying  _ pop!  _ could be heard and Duke knew that this was his win now.

King gasped in surprise and attempted to recover but all he found was a knife in his forehead as he plummeted down towards the Duke’s mace. Duke watched him fall, a smile on his face. He clambered down the fire escape to make sure he would be really dead once he hit the floor. 

A stab in the forehead. Many broken bones. A broken ankle. The King was still fighting to get up despite the many wounds he suffered. Duke pulled the knife out of his head and plunged it into the King’s chest. His struggling stopped. 

The Duke was going home with one million dollars. 

~

“Happy birthday to you~!”

Thomas grinned and blew out his candles. Everyone cheered happily. Remus was sitting next to the birthday boy, taking all ten of the candles out of the cake. The other seat next to Thomas was empty. Thomas had told everyone “papa will be home soon. He promised me he would!” so the seat was left open.

Remus couldn't stop thinking about his mission. He had waited around until the correct people rewarded him with his money and disposed of the Red King’s body. He hadn't taken the mask off. They would know if it had been removed and he did  _ not  _ want any money deducted from his payment.

But something felt...bad. Awful. Like he had done something worse than killing an infamous target in the assasin world. 

Cake was served. Presents were unwrapped. Games were played.

“Papa will be home soon.” “He told me he was gonna be late.” “Papa said he had a work meeting before my party.”

Guests left. Lights dimmed. The sun went down.

Remus stayed at home with Patton to help take care of the mess. 

“Uncle Remus?” Thomas came up to him while Remus was balling the plastic tablecloth up to be thrown out.

“Yes Tommy-Salami?” Remus rubbed Thomas’s head. Normally it would make him giggle, but he didn't.

“Where’s papa…? Can you call him? I asked daddy but he said papa’s phone was dead.”

“Of course buddy.” The feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach grew. He pulled out his phone and dialed his brother.

_ We’re sorry. This number is not available at this time.  _

_ We’re sorry. This number is not available at this time. _

_ We’re sorry. This number is not available at this time. _

Remus kept calling. And calling. And calling.

The outfit…the voice…the sword… 

It couldn't have been.

“...Uncle Remus?” Thomas looked anxiously up at his uncle. “...where's papa…?”

“I-I don't know kiddo. I'm sure he's okay.” Remus mustered up a smile. “Why don't you go help Dad with your toys?”

Thomas looked sad and nodded, going into the living room to help his dad. Remus stuffed the tablecloth in the trashcan and left the house.

~

It was true.

Remus got the identification report a few days later. It was true.

The red hair. The tan skin. The body shape. The hands.

The cold, dead eyes. The eyes they shared since their birth. Once a beautiful emerald green was now a dusty, numb, clover color. Those eyes were burned into his mind, he couldn't unsee them. 

He had killed his brother. 

Roman DeSouza’s name would never be spoken again.

  
  



End file.
